


Legs Legs Legs

by purplesocrates



Series: Legs Legs Legs [1]
Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur gets a shock, But he doesn't mean to, Cock Cage, Cock Cages, First Time, Hand Over Mouth, Hannibal Extended Universe, Kilts, Light Bondage, M/M, Modelling, Naughty Pictures, galahad is a model, galahad is a tease, isolde is not a bird but a person, lacey underwear, tristan fucks up, tristan is a photographer, tristan is helpless, tristhad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-20 17:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19381804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesocrates/pseuds/purplesocrates
Summary: Tristan is a photographer for Arthur who sends him a new model by the name of Galahad.  The brief is for a new range of kilts from Bors.  Obviously Tristan becomes enamoured with Galahad's legs and Galahad himself.  One problem though he has promised Arthur he will not sleep with any of the models.....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Tristhad! Hope you all like it!

 

Tristan is woken by his phone ringing loudly.  Obnoxiously loudly. Arthur must have put the volume up on it again.  Reaching out blindly for it he knocks a few bottles off the nightstand and curses.  Eventually he locates the cursed thing and presses what he believes to be the right button holding it to his ear “what?”  He grumbles into the infernal device.

 

“You are late.”  The voice on the other end of the phone says.  The tone of the voice is irritated and it makes Tristan irritated.  

 

“Fuck sake Arthur is that you?”  Tristan grumbles as he manages to open his eyes, the light level in the room is very low, but what is there hurts, so he puts his hand over his eyes almost instantly. He can feel a headache begin to pulse and make itself known at the back of his head.  Tristan feels the terror of impending pain from a hangover and he groans.

 

“Yes Tristan!  And these phone calls are well above my paygrade!”  Arthur barks at him. To be fair he is right, as the owner of the agency it is not Arthur’s job to call errant photographers who cannot turn up on time.  Tristan is an old friend though and Arthur knows he will not answer the phone to anyone else. The fact is anyone else would have and has fired Tristan’s ass long ago, but Tristan is very good at what he does and they go way back since they were kids.  “Get your hungover ass out of bed and into work. Now.” Arthur hangs up and Tristan throws the phone to the ground and groans loudly.

  


***

 

Tristan makes it to the studio after retrieving his phone. Arthur had texted him the address of where he was supposed to be.  A good two hours ago. He manages to get an uber straight there, the car was blissfully dark in the back and driver thankfully silent.  He has the largest thermos of coffee he could find, which he made black with a generous helping of whiskey in it to help stave off the hangover for another day.  He took a couple of painkillers too just to help with the thumping in his head. He is now starting to feel slightly more himself - numbed. Despite the heat he is wearing his uniform worn black leather low slung trousers and faded oversize charcoal shirt. He has on black trainers that he usually kicks off the moment he starts taking pictures preferring to be barefoot.  His fingernails have chipped black nail varnish and various heavy silver rings, he has a large leather bracelet he rarely takes off on his wrist. He is wearing his sunglasses to help protect his eyes against the oppressive LA sun. Not the first time in his life he curses Arthur and his idea to move to this god forsaken place all those years ago.

 

He makes his way inside the studio which appears to be in one of those converted downtown warehouses with those huge, noisy industrial elevators.  A tall, skinny young woman who is totterring on six inch heels and wearing what can only vaguely be described as a skirt and a very low cut top greets him as he enters.  “Isolde.” She says holding out her hand which he does not take but just grunts. “I am your assistant for the day. Anything you need?” Her voice is a little too high pitch for him right now, but he remembers that he is supposed to be polite to these girls, who seem to quit at a rate of knots.  Not that he cares; but Arthur does.  

 

He lowers his sunglasses and looks at her, he smiles awkwardly “thanks…”  he has forgotten her name already.

 

“Isolde.”  She helpfully replies.

 

“Cool, yeah Isolde.”  He says as he watches her, with surprising ease, pull back the heavy grate of the elevator for him.  “Actually yeah some smokes would be good.”

 

“Smokes?”  Isolde says as she follows him into the elevator slamming the grate shut again and pressing the button, the elevator loudly clunks before moving and Tristan has to hold onto the side to steady himself.

 

“Yeah you know”  Tristan says as he pushes his glasses onto the top of his head, pushing his shoulder length dark, slightly greasy hair back, he then does a smoking motion with his free hand, the one that isn’t holding the giant thermos of coffee and whiskey.

 

Isolde nods “any particular brand?”

 

“Kings.”  He says and she looks a little confused.  “Danish brand but just whatever you can get that’s strong and has no filter.”

 

“Okay.”  She says and the elevator has reached its destination.  Tristan once again watches her with those skinny arms easily move the grate back.  He walks passed her and looks her up and down. She pretends not to notice him do it.  “I’ll send someone out.”

 

“Thanks.”  Tristan says.

 

“Anything else you may need?”  She says and he stops and turns around taking a step closer to her before they enter the main studio.

 

“Arthur said no alcohol right?”  Tristan whispers and looks behind him briefly before turning his attention to the young lady in front of him, who is not at all intimidated by him and is standing her ground admirably.  He wonders if this one will stick. She nods but doesn’t say anything. Tristan roots around in his pocket for his wallet he takes out a wad of cash, putting the wallet back in his pocket, he then hands the cash to her.  She takes it between two fingers as if she is not entirely sure where it has been. “Couple of bottles of johnny walker blue and some smokes. Keep it off the books.” Isolde nods and goes to walk in front of Tristan but he gently stops her with his hand on her shoulder, she looks at the hand and then at him as if to say he will lose it if he does not remove it.  He laughs and holds both his hands up “sorry darling. I would like it if you went personally. Keep any change.”

 

Isolde looks at the wad of cash and then at Tristan she smirks “as you wish.”  She turns on her six inch heels with more grace than Tristan has ever seen any model with and makes her way to the elevator.  

 

Once she has gone Tristan takes another swig of his irish coffee and puts his sunglasses back over his eyes, he makes his way into the main studio.  There are lights set up and a long table with his laptop, a sound system, camera and all his lenses laid out for him. Isolde has been busy, he thinks, but then again she had two hours.  There are also racks of clothes waiting for his inspection as well as a table at the back with drinks and food. A small changing area has been set up with mirrors and screens for privacy.  The make up people and the dressers and all sat on the row of couches in the corner on their phones when he walks in.

 

“What the fuck are we doing then?”  Tristan announces loudly just as his phone rings again.  “Fuck!” He says and fishes the thing out of his pocket, he almost drops the thermos but is saved by one of the people from the couches standing and racing over to him, with almost superhuman speed, and grabbing it from him.  He mutters a thanks and then answers his phone. “I’m here for fuck sake!” He says.

 

Arthur is on the other line and his voice can be heard by everyone else in the room as it appears Tristan has managed to put the thing on speaker.  “I know Tristan, Isolde told me.”

 

“She your spy?”  Tristan says as he makes his way to a corner and shoos whoever took his coffee away from him.  

 

“She was just doing her job.”  Arthur says. “She didn’t even give you up about the booze and smokes I expect you sent her out for.”

 

Tristan, unseen by Arthur shrugs his shoulders.  “So what the fuck is this for anyway?”

 

Arthur, unseen by Tristan pinches the bridge of his nose.  “The new range for Bors.” Arthur says.

 

Tristan stops in his tracks and rolls his eyes “Arthur I said no to this.”

 

Arthur knows this, they had many arguments about it, but he also knows Tristan is the best and they need the best.  “I know you did but I want you to do it.”

 

“Fuck.”  Tristan says as really his only argument is that he doesn’t want to do it.  The shoot is for a new range of mens formal wear, it includes kilts and a few more avant garde pieces.  Arthur wants it shot in a straight laced way to offset the edginess. Tristan hates straightlaced and he knows the designer wants to model for it and he looks like an absolute twat all muscles and no brains.  “The shit for brains designer wanted to model for it didn’t he? The guy that looks like he got beat up by a fuckin’ rhino twice!”

 

Arthur laughs, he thought Bors had a certain rugged charm.  “We have had a change actually, managed to talk him round.”

 

Tristan is relieved at that.  “Who have we got then?”

 

“A new guy.”  Arthur says “you’ll like him.”

 

Tristan frowns, great.  A shit collection, a new model who will not know what he is doing this is going to be a fucking joke.  “Does this new guy have any experience? I don’t have the patience to break in some new pup.”

 

Arthur laughs “he is a natural.  Trust me. Name of Galahad.”

 

Tristan groans for the hundredth time that day “fucking Galahad!  What kind of name is that?”

 

“Stop being an ass and get on with it,”  Arthur barks “you are already two hours behind schedule.”

 

“Fine.”  Tristan says and hangs up the phone.  “Let’s get this fucking over with.”

 

Removing his sunglasses and chucking them on the table, his hair now falling in front of his face braids hanging stiffly tied with various coloured thread, he makes his way to the rack of clothes. He checks them all out, taking off the ones he hates and throwing them to the ground.  One of the dressers gasps loudly and picks up the rejected garments, rescuing them and rehanging them on an empty rail while eyeballing Tristan with disgust. Once he has sorted through what he likes he looks around the room “where is the fucking model?” 

 

“Here.”  A voice says, a lovely soft voice, Tristan idly thinks as he turns around and is confronted with what looks like a very beautiful but very young boy.  The young boy is holding Tristan’s thermos and he realises this must be who took it from him earlier. Tristan looks the boy up and down as he takes the thermos back.  “You look like you are twelve years old, you sure you are old enough to be here?”

 

The boy, whose name Tristan belatedly remembers is Galahad, rolls his eyes and for all the world looks adorably as if he is about to have a full blown tantrum, something Tristan would be intrigued to witness.  Instead he takes a deep breath and looks Tristan straight in the eye and says “I am old enough to get to a job sober and on time.”

 

Tristan almost laughs “alright.”  He says. “Well now I am here shall we get started.”  Tristan looks at the make-up and hair team “first job try and make this pup look older than twelve.”

 

***

 

Tristan is busy setting up the camera and deciding what the backdrop should be, his shoes long since kicked off he is barefoot now.  Isolde has returned and is bringing in various props which he is shooting down as it all seems crap to him. She had thankfully returned with the whiskey and smokes, both of which he is utilising right now.  He has stopped even pretending with the whiskey and is just drinking it from one of the glasses that were supposed to be for water. He is using what he thought was an empty coke can as an ashtray (but actually belonged to the hair stylist but she let it go for fear of being sworn at).

 

Eventually Galahad appears and stands in the once again empty white staging area.  He is wearing one of the more traditional kilts, red and black tartan with a small sporran attached, no long socks just big industrial style workmen boots and a black collarless shirt.  His hair looks the opposite of tamed, his curls jut out at every possible angle, his beard has been trimmed a little but also mostly allowed to look a little wild. The overall effect is very pleasing, his youth is still there but he looks untamed and a little feral especially as he locks eyes with Tristan who he has clearly decided he hates.  Angry is a good look on this pup, Tristan thinks.

 

“Where do you want me?”  Galahad asks looking away from Tristan at the large white space behind him.

 

Tristan smirks and picks up the camera “in front of the camera.”

 

Galahad huffs out a frustrated sigh and stomps his way to the centre of the white space.  He stands there with his hands on his hips staring awkwardly ahead as if he has never in his life had his picture taken.  Tristan silently curses Arthur, the designer would have been better than this kid. “Try to at least look like a fucking model.”

 

Galahad stares daggers at Tristan who picks up the camera and snaps a few pictures of him stood there fuming with his hands on his hips.  He looks at the camera display and smiles “just do what you would normally do okay? To get started, your go-to poses.” Tristan says and brings the camera back up to his eye and starts to move around and click pictures.  He waves at Isolde to turn on the fan he wants to see those riotous curls move in a breeze.  

 

As Tristan is clicking away he realises that Galahad is barely moving at all, in fact he now looks more like a deer caught in headlights than the angry feral beast he did a minute ago.  Tristan sighs and puts his camera down, he picks up a cigarette lights it taking a deep drag. Galahad watches him as he does this and frowns. “Do you have any go-to poses pup?”

 

Galahad is starting to blush but as much as it is frustrating for Tristan to be lumbered with such an inexperienced model he does look good at least and the camera loves him.

 

“This is my first shoot.”  Galahad says quietly.

 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!”  Tristan exclaims. Fucking Arthur didn’t mention that.  “Galahad the fucking pure! Great! Have you ever been in front of a camera before?  Where the fuck did he find you?”

 

“Who?” Galahad asks shuffling slightly.

 

“Arthur!  Where did he find you?  Did he pick you up off the street or something?”  Tristan asks and he knows immediately as he said it what the answer is.  “He fucking did! Oh for gods sake!” Galahad looks like he would quite like the ground to open up and swallow him whole.  “Right everyone out!” Tristan shouts and Galahad starts to move “NO! Not you! You fucking stay put, THE REST OF YOU OUT!”  

 

Galahad stays completely still as everyone else in the loft leaves.  They all file out in one go, all looking relieved and pointedly not making eye contact with Galahad, who is inwardly pleading for someone to stay.  Isolde holds out but even she is shooed away by Tristan and eventually leaves, Tristan can hear her calling Arthur from the lift.  

 

“Right, I did not want to break in a new pup today but I guess that’s what we are doing.”  Tristan puts his camera down and walks over to the food table. He grabs another water glass and takes it back to the bottle of whiskey and pours some into it, he hands the glass to Galahad who gingerly takes it.  Tristan then refills his own glass. “Cheers pup.” He says and clinks Galahads’ glass. “Down in one.”

 

They both down the generous shot and Tristan takes the glass from Galahad and places them  both down on the table by the camera. Galahad watches as Tristan goes around the room and shuts off all the lights except for the two bright photography lamps and lowers all the black out blinds.  He then turns and looks at Galahad, he purses his lips as if assessing something and then he decides. Fishing out his phone he scrolls through his playlists until he finds the right one and plugs it into the sound system set up by the camera table.  

 

“I don’t want you to think.”  Tristan says. “I want you to close your eyes and just react okay.  Imagine you are the only person in the world.” He then presses play and puts the volume up to max.  The electronic dance music fills the loft space, it is deafeningly loud. Tristan kneels down on the floor with another shot of whiskey and gestures for Galahad to do as he says.  Eventually Galahad takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. At first he is still, clearly self conscious, expecting Tristan to do something awful to him, play some kind of trick on him but after a while he realises that is not going to happen.

 

Tristan is just quietly drinking and watching.  He has done this before with new models but not for a while as he tends to get experienced ones now.  He stares up at Galahad expecting him to just stand there stock still. Which he does at first. Then he begins to sway a little, his hips rocking slowly to the steady beat of the music, he leans his head back a little, arching his neck which Tristan realises is almost swan like in colour and length.  His riotous curls are dancing as he moves and the air from the fan catches them. His arms gently fall, relaxed to his sides, each hand unclenching as he breathes long slow breaths willing his body to calm down.  

 

Galahad allows his face to relax and his lips part a little.  Tristan puts down his drink and reaches up for his camera. He snaps a few pictures from the angle he is knelt at and then just watches for a little longer.  After a few songs and when Galahad has finally relaxed and seems to have gone into some kind of zone, his shoulders relaxed as his body gently sways. Tristan stands up and walks slowly behind Galahad and whispers softly in his ear “dance” before moving away.  At first Galahad remains where he is but then he slowly opens his eyes, he looks for Tristan but he cannot see him as the rest of the loft is dark. Tristan knows it’s easier to lose yourself when you can’t see the only other person in the room, and so Galahad begins to move.

 

His movements are slow at first, hesitant sways of hips, moving his feet from side to side.  Then he brings his arms above his head and starts to move in a small circle. Tristan picks up the camera and follows him from the edges of the dark, the clicking of the camera only just audible above the loud drum beat of the music.  Galahad seems to finally start to fully relax and he even looks like he might be having fun, there is an almost smile on his lips as he begins to move in larger circles. His arms move from side to side above his head and then he brings them down, his hips never stop swaying and Tristan finds the sight a little mesmerizing.  

 

The changed light in the room is also making Galahad look softer and his eyes seem to change colour, sometimes they look pale blue others a stormy green.  Tristan turns on the LED light and programmes in some changing colours angling it at Galahad so it pulses and changes to the beat of the music. This makes Galahad smile widely, and it almost takes Tristan’s breath away, and he finds himself smiling too as he takes more pictures of Galahad dancing around the space.  After a few songs Tristan turns down the volume of the music and Galahad stops moving, Tristan steps closer to him into the light “better?” 

 

Galahad nods a little breathless.  Tristan then hands him another of the kilts from the rack this one is much shorter.  “Just change the kilt - leave the rest.” Tristan says and turns away to put the volume of the music back up.  He keeps his back turned until Galahad has changed having thrown the previous kilt on the floor he kicks it to the side.  Tristan smiles and throws it back “do it again.” He says and raises his camera. Galahad laughs and does as he is told. Tristan snaps him as he takes in those long wonderful legs in the changing light.  

 

Tristan is soon completely obsessed with the way Galahad moves his legs when he dances.  The shorter kilt sways teasingly short just hiding the tops of Galahad’s thighs. His skin _looks_ soft but his muscles are solid and he moves with grace.  Tristan cannot seem to take his eyes from them and he realises that he is taking a lot of pictures of just Galahad’s legs.  Eventually Tristan turns the music down again and Galahad stops and looks at him “okay, boots and socks off. You have fantastic legs.”

 

Galahad looks surprised as if no one has ever told him this before.  He goes to move out of the white space and Tristan stops him “no take them off here.”  

 

Sitting down on the floor Galahad removes the boots as Tristan continues to take pictures of him.  Tristan can see Galahad is wearing black underwear underneath the kilt, Tristan imagines it to be lace and smiles to himself.  As he removes his socks and shoes Galahad’s legs end up at strange angles and Tristan cannot help but become even more enamoured with them.  Galahad takes his time as requested as Tristan kneels down taking pictures. Once Galahad is finished Tristan stands up and turns the music up again and Galahad takes the hint, he stands up and begins to dance.

 

This time the music is slower and Galahad seems to respond to it, he starts to move like a dancer, he kicks his legs out and points his toes.  The overall effect is so beautiful Tristan realises he never wants to leave this room. He could take pictures of this creature all day and night for the rest of his life.  After a few more songs, Tristan turns the music down once more to give Galahad a rest. Tristan also takes the opportunity to get his breath back and check the shots so far and they are some of the best he has ever taken.  “Are they alright?” Galahad’s breathless voice asks from behind Tristan.

 

“Beautiful.”  Tristan say and turns. 

 

“Can I see?”  Galahad asks.

 

Tristan smiles and laughs he shakes his head, his hair moves stiffly as it falls in his face  “no pup not till I am done.” Tristan never shows his work until the end of the session it can cause a subject to go into their head too much.  “I had a thought” Tristan says “you can say no.”

 

Galahad runs a hand through his unruly curls now slightly damp from all the dancing.  “Okay.”

 

Tristan smiles “just the kilt?”

 

Galahad swallows and looks at Tristan “you mean no shirt?”

 

Tristan nods “yeah” as much as he would love to see just the kilt and nothing else, this is a job not his own personal collection.  

 

“Yeah sure.”  Galahad says and strips the tunic off dropping it to the ground.  

 

The sight greeting Tristan is truly glorious.  Galahad in just the short black kilt is stunning.  His chest is as pale as his legs and neck, his nipples pink and wonderful.  He really has no body hair, just a smattering of soft looking hairs around his nipples but his legs are hairless as is his chest.  His skin is a little flushed from the exertion and Tristan finds he cannot take his eyes from Galahad’s heaving chest. “Sorry I am so pale.”  Galahad says and Tristan shakes his head.

 

“No, no it’s perfect. You are perfect.”  Tristan manages. “Dance again for me? For a little while?”

 

Galahad smiles “with pleasure.”

  
  
  


                             

                                       

  



	2. Chapter 2

 

Tristan is sat in the waiting room of the agency office having been called in by Isolde, who is now, apparently, his permanent assistant.  He is glad about this though, as strange as she is, he likes her. He had sent Arthur the shots from the Bors shoot with Galahad and had expected a call.  Personally he thought they were some of his best work, he had spent two days straight editing them barely moving from his computer in his flat. The shoot had gone on for a few hours with Galahad dancing around the loft and Tristan taking pictures and being completely mesmerized by him.  

 

“Here.”  Isolde says handing Tristan a large cup of coffee which he gratefully takes, he sips it with a grimace as he realises there is no whiskey in it.  Isolde rolls her eyes “you need caffeine.”

 

“I need a smoke.  How much longer is his lordship going to be?”  Tristan says drinking the coffee despite the lack of whiskey.

 

“He is almost done.”  Isolde says. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

 

Tristan looks at her stood there in front of him, with her towering heels, all dressed in black, short bob of brown hair, dark eyes with heavy eyeliner.  She has quite sharp features, he thinks, beautiful though he wonders what she would be like on camera. “Have you ever modelled?”

 

Isolde rolls her eyes even further back in her head.  “No and that will not work on me.” She says giving him that death stare that makes him feel as if she sees straight through him.

 

He laughs, “I didn’t mean it like that!”  Although she is right he has used that line a few times before,  “you just have really interesting features.” He says and he means it.

 

“No.”  She says flatly and checks her phone which looks as if it has a million messages on it.  “Do you need me to come in?”

 

He shakes his head “no, you don’t need to babysit.  You can get on with whatever it is you do.”  

 

She smiles and nods “I’ll see you when you are done.  I have your schedule and a few things for you to sign.”

 

“A schedule?”  Tristan says pushing his sunglasses up on his head.  “I have a schedule?”

 

“Yes.”  Isolde says.  “I am your assistant now so you have a schedule.  One you will be keeping to.”

 

“Right.”  Tristan says not convinced.

 

“Do you actually know what I do?”  She asks knowing the answer is no. “I will be scheduling you, booking people and places you need, as well as keeping you to said schedule.  You will wonder how you lived without me.”

 

Tristan laughs at that and admires her ambition.  

 

Arthur appears then and beckons him through.  Tristan stands up and nods at Isolde who is already on her phone and walking off to her office, which she apparently has even though he doesn’t even have one.  Not that he would use it if he did.

 

“Sit down.”  Arthur says as Tristan manages to walk into the office and turn his head away from Isolde’s retreating form.  “Don’t scare her away she’s brilliant.” Arthur says and Tristan waves his hand in defeat, he sits down on the large leather couch, he leans forward and places his coffee on the table.  “Use a fucking coaster Tristan!” Arthur says and grabs one and puts it under Tristan’s mug.  

 

“Sorry!”  Tristan says shaking his head at what fussy clean freak Arthur is.  “I wasn’t scaring Isolde, by the way, if anything its the other way round.”

 

Arthur laughs at that “yeah I would not mess with her and neither should you.”

 

Tristan smiles “I promise to behave.  I like her actually.”  

 

“I am glad.” Arthur says as he leans against the edge of his desk facing Tristan.  “The Bors shoot.” He says in an unreadable flat tone.

 

“Good aren’t they.”  Tristan says as he puts his feet up on the table, leaning back with arms folded behind his head.

 

“Good is not the word I would use.”  Arthur says, he frowns at Tristan’s shoes on his table but lets it go for now.

 

“Brilliant then.”  Tristan says. “That pup you found on the street had no clue what he was doing, but I worked my magic, and he was actually a natural in the end.”

 

“I agree that he looks great in the pictures Tristan but they are well…” Arthur pauses trying to find the right word and giving up “frankly verging on pornographic Tristan.  Please tell me you did not sleep with him?”

 

Tristan laughs “what?!  They were not!”

 

Arthur grabs two pictures from the stack behind him and throws them at Tristan.  “Look at them.”  

 

Tristan moves his arms from behind his head and takes his feet off the table, he picks up the photos and places them on the table he leans forward  and looks at them. One of them is from when Galahad was removing his boots with the shorter kilt on, admittedly you can see his underwear and all of his legs, but it is beautiful.  The other one is from when he was dancing in just the kilt all legs and bare chest. “This is just two! I took hundreds!”

 

Arthur rolls his eyes “they are all like this.  They show more of the model than the collection.  Did you forget you were supposed to be photographing the clothes?!”

 

“They are shit clothes.”  Tristan says in his defence.

 

Arthur pointedly looks at Tristan, in his faded leather trousers, trainers that have holes in them and faded grey shirt which is three sizes too big for him and smiles.  “Yes because you are an expert in fashion.”

 

Tristan waves his hand in the air as he speaks. “Come on you know they are shit!”  Tristan knows Arthur thinks so but it too polite or professional to say so. “The less they are in these photos the better!”

 

As much as Arthur does agree with Tristan that’s not really the point he is trying to make.  It has also not escaped Arthur’s attention that Tristan has not answered the question of whether he had slept with Galahad or not.  It is fairly clear from the photos that he wanted to. “You need to do the shoot again I cannot take these to Bors.” Arthur says and Tristan stands up then.

 

“What?!”  He says irritated now.  “These are some of my best work!”

 

Arthur nods “I actually do not disagree but they do not fit the brief.”

 

“Since when do you care about the brief?  Since when did you give me a brief and expect me to stick to it?!”  Tristan is close to shouting now but he is mostly hurt if he is honest.  Arthur has never questioned his work like this.

 

Arthur sighs “since we need to keep clients Tristan.  I put you on this because you are the best and Bors is a big client for us.”  He takes moves closer to Tristan and puts his hands on Tristan’s shoulders gently.   “I don’t ask much of you Tristan, I just need you to follow the rules this one time.”  Tristan goes to argue but the words fall silent on his lips as he realises Arthur is right,  He is allowed to do as he wants most of the time, he has also been fired from every job he has ever had before this so really he should be more grateful.  “I am not saying you cannot have ideas” Arthur says, voice a little softer, “you can choose where you want to shoot it, maybe a location this time. Whatever you want. Isolde will help you sort it.”  Arthur removes his hands from Tristan’s shoulders as he can see that Tristan has decided to not fight him on this, he moves back to sit on the edge of his desk. “The only things’ I insist on are that you use the clothes and Galahad again.  But” Arthur says holding up a single finger at Tristan “do not sleep with him! We have a reputation to uphold Tristan!”

 

“I would never do that!”  Tristan says as he hasn’t slept with a model, well since working for Arthur anyway.  He smirks and Arthur rolls his eyes. Regardless, at least he can work with Galahad again, at the thought he has an idea, a stroke of inspiration, especially as he now has Isolde to scout locations for him.   “Okay, actually I have an idea.”

  
  


***

 

A few days later Isolde, Tristan and Galahad find themselves driving in Tristan’s old truck out to the middle of nowhere in Malibu State Creek park.  They left at the crack of dawn so they would have plenty of light. Isolde had loaded several bags of Bors collection into Tristan’s truck with surprising ease.   Refusing any help from both Galahad and Tristan, insisting she had a system that they would interfere with. She also took one look at Tristan, sunglasses once again over his clearly blurry eyes and insisted she drove.  So while both Galahad and Tristan dozed she drove them to their location, one she had personally scouted and knew well. It was a beautiful spot, a river and large boulders with trees just beyond. It was going to be perfect for the shoot; the moment Tristan had said outside somewhere dramatic she had thought of it.

 

They get parked up and lug the gear down the trail to the river, which all three of them do, Isolde carries the most though and seems to not even break a sweat.  Tristan is wearing his usual outfit of leather trousers, shirt and holey trainers, which Isolde knew he would, so she throws a pair of hiking boots and socks at him which he begrudging changes in to.  Galahad has come dressed in good hiking clothes, proper boots included, and Tristan tries to ignore how smug he looks.

 

They get set up and Galahad changes into the first look for the day, one of the longer tartan kilts with a tunic style shirt, open to show off his neck.  Tristan insisted no hair stylists or make up he wants the feel to be rugged and natural, he doesn’t think Galahad needs it anyway. He is right because Galahad looks like a complete natural in this environment and Tristan feels as if he could once again take pictures of Galahad for the rest of his life.  

 

“I have been practicing since last time.”  Galahad says as he climbs to the top of a smaller boulder.  “I have been taking classes.”

 

Tristan smiles “classes?”

 

Galahad looks down and then up, Tristan tries not to think how young he looks.  “Yeah yoga and dance.”

 

Tristan nods and tries not to think too much about what Galahad might look like doing those two things in just a kilt.  “Yeah?” Tristan mutters and brings the camera up to his face. “Show me some moves then.”

 

Galahad smiles and precedes to work through a simple yoga routine, legs in various positions the kilt he is wearing falls beautifully almost revealing his ass and showing his wonderfully sculpted thighs.  He looks beautiful and elegant and he takes Tristan’s breath away. “Good, yes, more of that.” Tristan manages to sound encouraging and not too breathless. With every outfit change Tristan tries to push down the fantasy of wanting to take Galahad in one of those poses, he is so flexible and elegant the possibilities in the bedroom or even right here out in the open are endless.  His legs are a complete and utter distraction and Tristan is sure he will be haunted by them again. He idly thinks they should have gotten a horse and then is utterly taken over by the image of Galahad wearing that short kilt while on horse. He wonders where that kilt is, but forgets it the moment Galahad moves into a warrior pose bringing his leg up behind him, grabbing it with his hand with complete elegance and ease.  Tristan is both glad and annoyed that Isolde is here to stop him from doing something he should regret, but most definitely would not regret doing.

 

Isode watches as Tristan tries not to fall in the water as he takes pictures of Galahad.  She helps with the outfit changes and with grabbing whatever lense Tristan needs. By the end of the day Tristan realises Arthur is right he is not sure what he did before her.  Finally all the looks they needed have been captured and Tristan is as happy as he can be with the result. It has been a hot day and they are sweating and exhausted by the end of it. Isolde suggests they go swimming to cool down, she packed towels for all of them, before heading home.  They all strip down to their underwear and get into the blissfully cool water. Tristan tries very hard not to be distracted as Galahad dips his head under the water and shakes his hair like an actual pup. Isolde smiles as neither of them have eyes for her, both sneaking glances at each other.  

  
  


***

 

Tristan spends another two days straight editing the pictures from the outdoor shoot.  The pictures are more straightlaced than the first shoot and they show the clothes off well.  Galahad’s yoga poses create a wonderful silhouette against the blue sky and natural backdrop. Tristan knows Arthur will be pleased with them.  Galahad looks beautiful and Tristan is utterly distracted by thoughts of him. He imagines him in his bed wearing only that short kilt from the first shoot, crawling over him and running his hands up and down those thighs and higher.  Pulling at those curls, having those legs wrapped around him as he fucks into Galahad. He wonders what Galahad’s face would look like contorted in pleasure, he wonders what those lips would taste like, he wonders if his skin is as soft as it looks.  He wonders at all the different positions he could fuck him in. Shaking his head he tries to concentrate on the job at hand.

 

He is editing through the last few shots when the buzzer on his door goes.  He is not expecting anyone, only a few people know where he lives. Arthur has a key, but usually calls before coming over, after that one time he found Tristan in a compromising position with a guy he met at a club the night before.  He reluctantly gets up from the laptop and goes to the door and presses the view button and he gasps, smiling when he sees it is Galahad. He runs a hand through his hair and frowns because he realises he has not washed it in days. Nothing he can do about it now he buzzes Galahad in and opens the door to his flat he waits as Galahad makes his way up the stairs.  

 

“Hi.”  Galahad says as he reaches Tristan.  “I hope you don’t mind me popping by.” 

 

Tristan suddenly a little nervous shakes his head “no,  how do you know where I live?”

 

Galahad laughs and makes his way over to Tristan and holds out the bottle of Johnny Walker blue he has brought with him.  “It was tricky seems it is a closely guarded secret.” He says as Tristan takes the bottle from him nodding his thanks. “Isolde it turns out can be distracted once you find out she likes mojitos.”  Galahad had bought her a few drinks and she had left her phone unlocked while she went to the Ladies room, he had not realised she had done this on purpose knowing Galahad’s motives.  

 

Tristan laughs “good to know.”  He opens the door wider so Galahad can come in. Tristan eyes him as he walks in, he is wearing blue jeans and a distractingly tight white t shirt, he is carrying a leather satchel across his chest. Tristan is in his usual outfit with no shoes. 

 

Galahad takes in the large loft studio apartment.  It is not that different from where they had the first shoot, exposed brick walls, minimal furniture, open plan design.  It looks a little industrial lots of metal fronted cabinets and sides in the kitchen. There are huge black and white pictures framed on the walls and pillars, some of models, but a lot of what look like eagles and birds of prey.  “Did you take all these?” Galahad asks as he makes his way around the walls looking the the prints.

 

Tristan closes the door and walks into the kitchen grabbing two glasses from the cupboard he pours them both a drink and makes his way over to Galahad.  “Yeah. I like wildlife photography but it doesn’t pay the bills as well as the fashion stuff.” Tristan says handing Galahad a glass which he takes, they clink glasses.

 

“Down in one?”  Galahad says with a smile.

 

Tristan laughs “pace ourselves this time.”  Galahad takes a large sip though looking at Tristan as he does.  “Not that it isn’t nice to see you but what are you doing here?”

 

“I wanted to see the photos.”  Galahad says and Tristan realises he has put the leather bag he had been carrying by one of the pillars, he has also removed his shoes and is now barefoot too, which Tristan tries not to be distracted by.  “I didn’t see the first ones.”

 

Tristan smiles “I was told by Arthur they were not...appropriate.”

 

Galahad laughs and looks over at the large mac screen on the desk in the corner of the loft space.  “Are you working on the other ones now?”

 

Tristan nods as Galahad walks over to the screen to look at the photos.  He spends a few moments clicking through them before Tristan follows, standing just next to him.  “What do you think?” He says hopeful that Galahad likes them.

 

Galahad pauses a moment before looking at Tristan who thinks that Galahad’s eyes look pale blue today.  “They are beautiful.” Galahad responds and he means it, he barely recognises himself. The photographs are more than just fashion shots they are works of art.    “I don’t know how you do it.”  

 

Tristan smiles “easy when you have such a good subject.”  He leans down and clicks open the folder with the photos from the first shoot. He plays them on a slideshow as Galahad sits down and watches, transfixed as the images flip by in front of him.  These too he does not recognise himself at all, he looks so different, so free.

 

“You like them?”  Tristan asks as he stares at Galahad’s curls he longs to touch them.

 

“Yes.”  Galahad says a little breathless.  

 

“Feel free to use them for your portfolio.”  Tristan says and walks away from Galahad to pour himself another whiskey.  

 

Galahad follows him to the kitchen and stands too close behind him.  “I wanted to ask you something.”  

 

Tristan can feel Galahad’s breath on the nape of his neck and he shivers in anticipation.  He places the glass down on the side and closes his eyes briefly before turning around so they’re stood very close to one another.  “You can ask me anything.” This close, Tristan can sense Galahad is nervous and that he has had a few drinks before getting here, his breath smells strongly of whiskey and he appears to be shaking slightly.  Tristan cannot stop himself a moment longer and reaches up to stroke a hand down the side of Galahad’s hair. “Anything at all pup.”

 

Galahad closes his eyes briefly at being called pup by Tristan as if he likes it.  Tristan cannot help but smile. Galahad finally speaks and meets Tristan’s gaze they both feel heat from each other.  “Do you remember what you asked me at the first shoot?” Galahad’s voice is breathless and Tristan thinks he looks like everything he should not be attracted to, all youthful beauty and the tempting sin of him makes Tristan’s mind go to a multitude of sinful places.  “You meant that you wanted to see me in just the kilt didn’t you? Nothing else.”

 

Tristan tries to stifle a moan as yes he did mean that, he still longs to see that sight, he longs to see Galahad in black lace under that kilt too.  “We should probably try to keep things professional between us pup.” Tristan says as he removes his hand from Galahad who stops him from doing so by grabbing his wrist.

 

Galahad smiles “why?  Do you not like to photograph me?”

 

“I do. ”  Tristan says, because he does, he never wants to pick up his camera for another subject ever again.

 

“I stole it.”  Galahad says looking down and then up at Tristan.  “The kilt. I stole it.”

 

Tristan looks at the bag by the pillar and then at Galahad “you brought it with you?”

 

Galahad nods and lets go of Tristan’s hand he walks over to the bag and picks it up, opening it he takes out the kilt.  “Fuck.” Tristan breathes out and pours himself another drink downing it and placing the glass on the side once again. “Pup you are crazy.”

 

“Maybe.”  Galahad says, “but I cannot stop thinking about how I feel when you are photographing me.  Your eyes on me.”

 

Tristan is starting to feel as if he has slipped into a parallel universe of his wildest fantasies.  “How do you feel?”

 

“Like I am the only person in the world.”  Galahad responds. “Like I only ever want you to look at me.”

 

“You are very beautiful.”  Tristan says and he finds his legs are walking over to Galahad and before he knows it he is pushing Galahad against the pillar as he drops the bag and the kilt.  “I suspect you know that.” Galahad gasps as Tristan invades his personal space and his hand makes his way into his hair again tugging slightly at the curls. “The things I would do to you pup.”  Tristan whispers as he presses a chaste kiss to the column of Galahad’s neck, realising as he does that Galahad’s skin is indeed as soft as it looks.

 

“Tell me.”  Galahad moans his hands gripping the side of the pillar for dear life.

 

“You are right I want to see you in that kilt, your legs apart, your hand underneath.  I would dress you in lace underneath it though. You would look spectacular in lace. My flexible pup the positions I would watch you contort yourself into for me.”  Tristan is hotly whispering into Galahad’s skin now as he places wet kisses all down his neck. “I would crawl over you and kiss and bite my way down that pale chest of yours.  I would leave a trail of bruises with my teeth.” To demonstrate this Tristan takes a bite of the firm skin of Galahad’s neck and sucks hard causing a gasping moan to leave Galahad’s lips.  “I would put my head between your legs under that skirt and suck at you through the lace until you were wet, hard and wanting.”

 

Galahad arches his neck back, juts his hips and spreads his legs to encourage Tristan to put his leg between them which he does as he tugs hard again on Galahad’s hair.  “Tell me what else you would do?” Galahad manages his voice a wanton whisper.

 

Tristan smiles and bites Galahad’s neck once more “I would turn you over and remove that lace with my teeth.  I would lick and kiss you open.” Galahad keens at that and Tristan moans. “I would take you in my bed, fuck you until you came and then fuck you some more.  I want you writhing and sobbing with pleasure beneath me.”

 

“Yes.”  Galahad whimpers.  “Please.”

 

“Tell me what you want?”  Tristan says as he looks down at Galahad, hand still in his hair.

 

“I want all of that.”  Galahad says and then smiles “and I want you to keep calling me pup.”

 

Tristan so wants to drag Galahad to the bedroom but he also knows Arthur will kill him.  He knows that they are going to use Galahad again and he has promised Arthur he won’t sleep with the models, specifically Galahad.  He huffs out a growl of frustration and backs away from Galahd who whines at the sudden loss of closeness. “We can’t pup. You need to go.”  Tristan hears himself say as he makes his way back to the kitchen to pour himself a large shot of whiskey which he downs in one.

 

Galahad does not move from the pillar eyes not moving from Tristan.  “Why not?”

 

Tristan growls again and manages to look at Galahad who looks the very picture of sin leaving against that pillar, hair ruffled and skin flushed, slight red marks from the bites Tristan gave him still glistening on his neck.  “It is against agency policy. Arthur would kill me.”

 

Galahad huffs out a frustrated breath “I won’t tell anyone.”

 

Tristan laughs “people will find out they always do.  I am no good anyway you could do a lot better.”

 

“Isn’t that up to me to decide.”  Galahad says and moves from the pillar to walk towards Tristan who holds up his hand to stop him.

 

Tristan looks at him walking towards him and he so wants to give in but he also knows how much he owes Arthur “no.  You should go. I will send the photos you can use them for your portfolio.”

 

Galahad looks at Tristan for a moment and thinks about trying to argue but decides to leave it for now.  He makes his way back to the pillar and puts his shoes back on. Silently he picks up the kilt and puts it back in his bag before walking out leaving the door open behind him.

 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are adored!
> 
> More soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tristan gets a surprise from Galahad, something which may cause a distraction for them working together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see updated tags xxx

Arthur is indeed pleased with the pictures from Tristan.  Bors is ecstatic too they are exactly what he wanted. They will be used for the launch of the new collection. Which means there will be billboards with Galahad’s wonderful figure and face all over LA within the next few weeks to torture Tristan with.  Apparently, though, Galahad has decided to torture Tristan before they are released. The first picture message appears a few days after Tristan sent Galahad away from his loft. It is the middle of the night and Tristan is led in bed, naked, having drank an entire bottle of vodka to try and dull the constant thought of Galahad.  He is haunted by Galahad’s smell and the memory of his skin as he kissed his neck. Tristan’s phone buzzes and lights up, he gropes for it on the nightstand and opens the message. At first he is not sure what he is seeing. Then he rubs his bleary eyes and looks through his alcohol haze at the picture on the screen.

 

The photo is of Galahad.  Tristan would recognise those thighs anywhere. He is wearing just the short kilt he stole, the shape of his obviously hard cock can be seen underneath the pleats of the skirt.  Tristan moans when he sees it, his own cock flinching at the sight despite the vodka in his system. Before he can stop himself he types out the reply.

 

**_What have you got under there Pup? Lift up that skirt for me._ **

 

Tristan then watches as three little dots appear while Galahad responds.  The next photo Galahad has indeed lifted the kilt up to reveal black lace shorts, a hard cock straining against the fabric.  “Fuck.” Tristan moans and his cock is now fully hard at the sight of it. He really wishes Galahad was here in his bed so he could suck and lick that cock through the lace just as he promised.  

 

**_You like?_ **

 

Tristan is breathless with desire and more than a little drunk when he types out a response.   **_Yes, yes, very much._ **

 

There is no response after that and Tristan looks at the pictures while he touches himself in his bed. Coming with the word ‘Pup’ on his lips.

 

***

 

Isolde appears the next day with his schedule for the week and his mail, which she brought up from downstairs where it had been accumulating for the last few days.  She has a key to his apartment so lets herself into the building, but knocks on the front door to announce her presence, having been warned by Arthur that Tristan might be otherwise occupied.  She smirked at that and was half hoping she might find Galahad in Tristan’s bed after she had given him Tristan’s address. When she knocks on the door she finds it open so goes in and shouts “Tristan!”

 

The apartment is dark and it smells musty.  She sighs and turns the light on “Tristan!” She calls again and makes her way to the large windows at the far end.  She picks up the remote which is on the coffee table that operates the blinds and presses the button to raise them. The motor clicks in and they start to rise as light fills the apartment, she places the remote back down and makes her way to the kitchen.  She places her laptop, phone, papers and bag down on the side and starts the coffee machine making as much noise as she can. Once the coffee machine has started working she goes about cleaning the place up a little, clearing empty bottles from the floor and sides before putting them in the recycling.  

 

After making all this noise Tristan has still not appeared.  She takes a deep breath and pours a cup of the now brewed coffee and ventures into the bedroom.  She carefully opens the door “Tristan?” She can see a shape in the bed and can hear some snoring.  Making her way inside, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness, she places the coffee cup down on the nightstand and finds the lamp.  It is one of those ‘touch and turn on’ ones, she touches it once and it comes on a low light. She can see now that Tristan is asleep and there is an empty bottle of vodka beside his bed.  He is alone though, she is slightly disappointed to see, she thought he and Galahad would make a fine couple.  

 

“Tristan.”  She says slightly louder, gently she touches his exposed shoulder “boss.”  He stirs and his eyes slowly open. She can see them focus and adjust to the light, confused by her presence he makes an odd groaning sound.  “It’s me, Isolde.” She says. 

 

He blinks a few times before trying to sit up “what the fuck are you doing in my bedroom?”  He says voice still slurred.

 

“You have not been seen for two days, Arthur was worried and you have things that you need to do.”  Isolde says and helps him sit up, placing a pillow behind his back. His hair is stuck to his face and she wonders how he can see through it.  She hands him the coffee which he takes and sips.  

 

“What things?”  He says now a little more awake.

 

Isolde stands with her hands on her hips and looks down at him, sighing, he looks a state. “Work things, I covered for you as long as I could.”  

 

Tristan smirks and drinks more coffee “what fucking work things?”

 

Isolde sighs again.  “First you need to get up, shower and get dressed” she looks around the room and frowns “into clean clothes if you have any.”

 

Tristan smirks “not sure.”  He takes another larger sip of his coffee “You are not my mother Isolde, you can fuck off.” 

 

“Okay that’s the last time you tell me to fuck off Tristan.”  She says irritated as she has spent the last few days covering for him with Arthur.  “You rather it was Arthur over here? Get the fuck up and in the shower. I will be in the lounge when you are done.”  She turns around to leave.

 

Tristan grunts and then says “Isolde.”  She turns and faces him. “Sorry, I am a prick when I have just woken up.  Thanks for the coffee.”

 

Isolde smiles “Tristan you are a prick all the time.”  He laughs at that and she smiles. “Shower, clean clothes okay?”

 

Tristan nods and then salutes her with his hand and she rolls her eyes before leaving.

 

After about an hour Tristan appears, towelling his hair,  wearing a pair of jogging trousers that look more than a little incongruous on him and an old what looks like a Smiths t shirt, no shoes or socks, obviously, but he looks much better.  He pads his way to the lounge where Isolde has set herself up at the coffee table. She smiles when she sees him and pats the space next to her on the couch. He sits down with a huff and leans his head back and groans at how light it is in here, he drops the towel on the floor.

 

“Better?”  She asks.

 

He nods vaguely “yeah I guess.  Sorry again about before.” He says and turns his head to look at her.  “I definitely prefer you to Arthur.”

 

She smiles and nods, all is forgiven.  “Are you okay? What happened?” She asks closing her laptop and putting her phone face down so she can give him her full attention.  “I was worried.”

 

He places a hand on her back gently “I appreciate that but you don’t have to worry about me.”

 

She smiles “can’t help it.  Seriously are you okay?”

 

He laughs and removes his hand from her back “yeah just got a bit lost there for a while, too much booze.  Happens sometimes. Tortured artist and all that.”

 

Isolde looks at him and she does not believe it for a second.  “You can talk to me you know. We can be friends as well as colleagues.  It won’t go any further.” She says and she means it, she likes Tristan and thinks he is talented and should take better care of himself.  “I wondered if it had anything to do with Galahad?”

 

Tristan groans at the sound of that name “why? Did he say something?”

 

Isolde shakes her head, short bob moving as she does “no, he seems just as miserable as you though.”

 

Tristan huffs at that “does he?”

 

“I thought maybe you two would get together?”  Isolde says and Tristan sits up running a hand through his damp hair.  Isolde can smell his shampoo it smells like pine.

 

“I promised Arthur I would not sleep with the models.”  Tristan says. “I won’t break my promise to him.”

 

Isolde nods understanding now “you could talk to Arthur?  It seemed like you had a connection with Galahad.” By connection she means the ‘get a room’ tension you could cut with a knife.

 

Tristan frowns “don’t worry about it Isolde, I am no good for him anyway.”  He leans back again and Isolde takes that as an end to the conversation for now.  “So what do you need me to do?”

 

“Not much.”  Isolde says and brings the stack of papers closer “Arthur loved the new shots for Bors, they have all been approved so that’s all going ahead.  They are going to use the pictures for the catalogue as well as the advertisements. You will probably need to shoot more for that actually so I have provisionally scheduled a date. I have the lookbook as well so you can get a feel for the whole collection and decide if you want to do the shoot at the same location or start again.”  Tristan sighs at the conflicting emotions of having to spend more time with Galahad. Isolde ignores him and carries on “I brought your mail up as well for you to go though.” She pushes the stack of envelopes closer to Tristan who huffs at them. “You need to sign these papers too.” She places them on top of the pile of envelopes with an uncapped pen.  Tristan sighs and sits up, he scrawls his signature where Isolde tells him too. “Thanks.” She says. “Anything else you need?” She asks, “food for instance? When was the last time you ate something?”

 

Tristan tries to remember and finds he can’t.  “I am fine Isolde you do not need to babysit me.”

 

“You keep saying that,”  Isolde says “but your actions speak otherwise.”

 

Tristan laughs at that and sits back again suddenly feeling a headache coming on.  “I am fine.”

 

“Uh huh.”  Isolde says and stands up making her way to the kitchen.  Tristan hears her pottering around in there, but closes his eyes hoping this headache will clear sooner rather than later.  He begins to doze, so is not sure how much time passes before Isolde appears once more kicking his foot to rouse him. He opens his eyes and looks up at her. She is standing holding a bowl of something with a spoon stuck in it and a glass of, what could be water, but what Tristan hopes is vodka.  “Noodle soup and water.” She says placing them down on the table in front of him. “Eat, drink, stay alive.”

 

He laughs and sits up, the noodles do smell good.  “Thanks Isolde, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

 

She smiles triumphantly “told you!”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”  Tristan mumbles as he begins to eat the noodles.

 

Isolde leaves him to it and heads back to the office, safe in the knowledge she has everything she needs and can put people off for a few more days, until Tristan decides what locations he wants.  Tristan finishes the noodles, he was far hungrier than he realised, and drinks the pint of water, before he looks at the pile of work Isolde left him. He starts with the Bors lookbook for the collection and tries really hard not to roll his eyes at the fashions. Then again  as Arthur quite rightly pointed out he has little to no fashion sense so what does he know? He decides that they should do a whole new shoot for the catalogue and it is not just so he can spend longer photographing Galahad. That is what he tells himself anyway.  

 

He opens the mail and reads what is mostly junk or stuff he doesn’t care about.  He finds a small envelope that has his address and name handwritten on it, this is unusual as most of his mail is just circulars or from the agency.  Intrigued, he sits back and opens it. At first he thinks there is nothing in it and then he sees it. A small silver key attached to a leather keyring which has his name inscribed on it.  He holds it up and looks at it, the key is really small so it cannot be for a door, maybe a safety deposit box? He doesn’t have a storage box or know anyone who does. He checks the envelope to see if there is a return address or a name but there is nothing.  He doesn’t recognise the handwriting but when was the last time he saw anyone’s handwriting?

 

Puzzled he places the key down on the table.  He picks up his phone to call Isolde to see if she can shed any light on what this is.  Just as he picks it up a message comes through from Galahad. He takes a deep breath and unlocks his phone.  This time there are two pictures, one of the Kilt with a strange bulge underneath it and then one explaining what the bulge is.  A silver cock cage. Locked. The message  **_Galahad the pure, all for you._ ** Texted below it.

 

“Fuck.”  Tristan says and looks at the key realising what it is for.

  
  


***

 

The next time Tristan sees Galahad it is for the catalogue photoshoot.  Tristan had decided to do the shoot in the loft they used the first time. As there were so many looks to go through doing an outdoor shoot seemed too much hassle. Isolde had organised everything so all Tristan had to do was turn up on time, she even sent a car to get him over an hour early just to make sure he was on time.  She needn’t have worried though, because Tristan had been up all night and early morning pacing in his apartment, trying to calm himself down. He was more than a little excited to see Galahad.

 

They had exchanged a few more texts since Tristan had received the key.  Many pictures of the cock cage and Kilt with the blace lace over the top.  Galahad had kept the cage on almost constantly over the week before the shoot.  Tristan had so many questions he felt like he was being driven mad to the point of distraction, all his thoughts were of Galahad.  He had spent the night wondering if Galahad was going to have it on today, would every one notice? If he did what was Tristan going to do about it?  They were going to be at a photoshoot with a lot of people, this time there were dressers, hair and make up artists. Tristan was not sure he was going to get away with sending everyone away if they were going to get all the shots they needed.

 

He was pacing up and down the lounge of his loft chain smoking when the driver buzzed the door.  Tristan made his usual large thermos of irish coffee, heavy on the irish, and made his way down to the car, still smoking.  Once in the back and on his way he received a message on his phone it was from Galahad  **_Don’t forget the key - Pup._ **   Tristan was glad for the screen that separated him and the driver because he could not help the moan that escaped his lips as all his desires were confirmed.  He had the key in his back pocket, of course.  

 

The driver pulled up to the loft and Tristan got out, putting his sunglasses on, clutching his thermos and lighting another cigarette.  His hands were shaking and he was trying to remain calm, Isolde meets him at the door and rolls her eyes at the sight of him. Not for the first time he is taken aback by her, she is wearing skin tight black jeans and a midriff revealing black v neck wraparound top with those sky high heels she walks around in, with seeming ease.  She is holding a clipboard as she walks over to him and takes the thermos from him with a frown. “How much have you had?” She asks as she opens the thermos up and dumps the contents on the street.

 

“Fuck! Isolde!”  He says as he watches his dutch courage run down the street.

 

“I will get you a fresh one.”  She says. “With no irish added.”

 

Tristan frowns at that and takes a drag of his cigarette.  “I am still smoking.”

 

Isolde smiles “as if I would ever deprive you of your Kings.”  She balances the thermos and clipboard in one hand and reaches into her back pocket and takes out a fresh pack of Kings cigarettes. Tristan smiles widely and takes them from her.  

 

“Thanks.”  He says and follows her inside.

 

“Is everyone here?”  Tristan asks, attempting to be casual.

 

Isolde opens the heavy grate on the lift and gestures for Tristan to go inside which he does, she pulls the grate back and turns to face him pausing a moment. “If by everyone you mean Galahad.  Then yes.”

 

Tristan pushes his sunglasses up onto the top of his head and smirks “he is the model.”

 

“He is indeed.”  She says and presses the button and the lift clanks, making its way up, Tristan is prepared this time and is already grabbing onto the safety rail.  “Yes, everyone and everything is all ready for you.”

 

When they get into the main space Tristan can see that Isolde has outdone herself.  Everything is exactly as he wanted, the lighting, the rails of clothes all set up in the right order.  Galahad is sat on the sofa in the corner dressed in jeans and a white t shirt again, no shoes or socks.  Tristan tries not to look at his crotch. His hair and a small amount of make-up has been done and he looks verging on radiant. Galahad is on his phone and does not look up when Tristan enters, which Tristan  is happy about because he is not sure he can deal with those eyes right away. Making his way to the sound system Tristan plugs his phone in as he finishes his smoke, putting it out in one of the many ashtrays Isolde has pointedly left out for him. 

 

Tristan then turns and looks at Galahad, he makes a decision then and he knows he will get into shit for it but he decides anyway.  “Galahad I need to speak to you Everyone give us the room.”

 

Isolde rounds everyone up and starts leading them out.  She thought Tristan might do this, there is something going on between them and she is hoping they can sort it out before they start.  Once everyone is gone she walks over to Tristan “You have as long as you need just call me when you need us okay. Sort this out.” She says and leaves.  Once alone Galahad finally looks up at him and smiles. Tristan is so blown away by those eyes he can barely catch his breath. Galahad really is just a beautiful as he remembered.

 

Before Tristan can do anything Galahad stands up and walks over to Tristan, more like a saunter really, and stands very close to him.  Tristan is leaning against the table as Galahad slowly runs his hand down Tristan’s arm to his hand and gently guides it to his crotch.  Tristan closes his eyes, unable to even contemplate opening them, as his hand is pressed slightly against the denim of Galahad’s crotch and he can feel the metal underneath the stiff fabric.  “Fuck.” Tristan mutters under his breath and he can almost feel Galahad’s smile.  

 

“Did you bring it?”  Galahad asks.

 

Tristan finally opens his eyes and nods “yes.”  He says meeting those eyes which look a darker blue today, like an ocean he could dive into.  “This has to stop.”

 

Galahad smiles and with his eyes never leaving Tristan’s he starts to unbutton the fly of his jeans and slowly lowers the zip with an almost painful gasp.  Tristan’s eyes follow those hands and he can see black lace with silver beneath and he moans. “You can open it now if you like.” Galahad whispers into Tristan’s ear.  They are still not touching, Tristan’s hand is hovering over the lace and metal of the cage. “Or we can wait.”

 

“Pup.”  Tristan whispers and Galahad cannot help but moan at the sound of it.  “You will be the death of me.”

Galahad laughs and smiles “at least take a proper look.”

 

Tristan moans and looks down as Galahad lowers his jeans to just under his ass so Tristan can fully appreciate the lace shorts straining over the cage.  He bites his lower lip and, before he can stop himself, he sinks to his knees. Galahad gasped at the sight of Tristan knelt in front of him. Very slowly Tristan raises his hands and gently cups the cage, Galahad moans and breathes out a long sigh.  Tristan’s hands feel the weight of the cage and Galahad’s cock under the lace which is soft in his hands. He looks at the black lace and leans forward placing the gentlest of kisses on the metal, just grazing the soft flesh beneath. Tristan can feel the heat of Galahad’s need beneath his lips, he wants to taste it, to feel the combination of warm flesh and lace with cold steel.  He slowly sticks his tongue out, Galahad’s hands hang in fists at his side and he has thrown his head back, neck arched pale and bright. When Tristan licks Galahad he gasps and almost falls but manages to stay standing. Tristan can taste salt, feel the soft lace and the hard metal against his tongue. He cannot get enough of this. He licks and kisses Galahad until the lace is damp and his cock is painfully attempting to get hard under the cage.

 

Galahad is trying to control his breathing, willing his cock to go soft again, but the pain is so exquisite and the promise of Tristan’s tongue and mouth is almost too much to take.  He wants to grab Tristan’s hair and pull at those braids, he can feel the strands tickling against his thighs through the lace and it makes him ache with need. He imagines Tristan crawling over his body just like he promised and biting a trail down his chest.  He remembers those kisses, indelible marks on his flesh, he needs more desperately. “Tristan!” Galahad whimpers out the name like a prayer and it makes Tristan whisper the word ‘Pup’ into the wet black lace.  

 

Eventually Tristan stands up slowly and presses his lips against Galahad’s but he doesn’t kiss him, he just brushes his lips against his.  “Afterwards.” Tristan whispers. “When we are done I will release you Pup.”

 

Galahad nods and moans as Tristan gently pulls the jeans up and over the now very damp lace shorts and does them back up.  

 

***

Tristan left Galahad to get his breath back and change into the first look alone.  He made his way outside and smoked three cigarettes in a row before calling Isolde and the team back to the loft.  He is not sure why he is encouraging this game with Galahad. He knows that keeping Galahad in the cage is going to be torture for both of them, but he cannot seem to help himself.  He knows he is going to take Galahad back to his apartment after this shoot and do all those things he promised Galahad he was going to. He wants to photograph Galahad for his own collection, he wants to capture every expression of pleasure as it comes over his face.  

 

Once he makes it back up to loft the shoot starts and is a blur of people and looks, he plays the music loud to try and clear his mind and concentrate.  He can see that Galahad is only just holding it together, his face is so beautiful as he tries to keep his expressions and desire under control. It makes him look ever wilder, verging on feral.  He looks like a caged tiger and it makes Tristan want to devour him.  

 

They are finally finished and everyone is exhausted.  Tristan feels anything but tired though, he can feel every cell in his body vibrating with need for Galahad.  He wants to get Galahad away from all these people, he wants him in his bed just for him. He manages to get Galahad alone in the small dressing room under pretence of showing him some of the pictures.  He pushes him up against the door and kisses his neck while Galahad moans. 

 

“Did you really keep yourself pure for me?”  Tristan whispers breathless and in awe as he kisses further along Galahad’s shoulder, one hand wondering down to gently rub the kilt fabric against the cage.  

 

Galahad moans, a sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead now, he is really not sure how much longer he can stand this. “Yes.”  He breathes and is rewarded with a bite to his neck.

 

“Such a good Pup for me.”  Tristan says looking up at him with a smile.

 

“I only want you.”  Galahad admits breathlessly.

 

Tristan moans at hearing those words because he feels the same and is filled with such an aching need he worries it will consume him.   At this precise moment Tristan’s phone in his back pocket starts to ring. “Fuck” Tristan moans and fishes it out and looks at who is calling him, it’s Arthur.  “Sorry Pup I gotta take this.”

 

Galahad moans but nods in agreement.  Tristan answers the phone “yeah.”

 

“I wanted to check in and make sure you had everything.”  Arthur says as Tristan runs a hand through his hair, frustrated because he really does not want to be talking to Arthur right now.

 

“Yeah we have everything we need.”  Tristan says and he looks at Galahad who has not moved from the door and is looking at Tristan with such lust in his eyes right now it makes Tristan almost moan with desire.  “Why didn’t you just call Isolde?”   
  


“I wanted to check in with you.”  Arthur says annoyed.

 

“Check up on more like.”  Tristan bites back, even though clearly Arthur is right to check in because Tristan is doing exactly what he should not be doing right now.  

 

“No.  I trust you to be professional.”  Arthur says and Tristan feels worse but then Galahad looks him up and down in such an obvious manner and bites his bottom lip and it makes Tristan want to throw the phone on the floor and devour him.

 

“Well thank you.”  Tristan says taking a step towards Galahad who arches his neck back and runs a hand down himself moaning.  “I will send you the edited shots in a few days.”

 

“What was that noise?”  Arthur says and Galahad moans again even louder so Tristan has to put a hand over his mouth to silence him, a hand which is then licked.

 

“Nothing.  Look I have to go.”  Tristan says and hangs up the phone and drops it on the floor uncaring.  “Pup.” He says hand over Galahad’s mouth still. “You need to learn to be quiet.”

Galahad raises an eyebrow at that and Tristan removes his hand.  He knows he should step away and leave right now but he also knows he won’t.  “We don’t have much time.” Tristan says because anyone could come in right now and probably will, he reaches into his back pocket and removes the cage key with a smile.  Galahad moans loudly again and Tristan puts his hand over his mouth again “be quiet Pup or you can stay in that cage for another week.”

 

Galahad nods and then gasps as Tristan lifts the kilt up and sinks to his knees once more in front of Galahad.  Tristan holds the skirt up and rolls down the underwear Galahad is wearing which is covering the still slightly damp lace ones he had on earlier.  Smirking Tristan removes both, scraping his fingers down Galahad’s thighs as he does so making him whimper. Once the underwear has pooled around Galahad’s feet Tristan turns his attention to the cage.  He can see that Galahad’s cock is trying to get hard but there is not enough room, he finds the lock at the front and puts the key in releasing Galahad he drops the cage to the floor.  

 

“Fuck.”  Galahad sighs in relief as he runs a hand through his hair.  Tristan smiles and then begins to gently stroke Galahad’s poor neglected cock to life.  It does not take long for him to get hard and dripping. “Fuck! Please Tristan!” Galahad whimpers.

 

“Shhh Pup,”  Tristan whispers as he kisses a trail along Galahad’s thighs while gently stroking his cock, “I have you.”  He stands up and begins to kiss Galahad’s neck once more as his hand moves up and down Galahad’s cock. “I want to photograph you like this.”  Tristan says looking up at Galahad as he leans his head back against the door, eyes rolled back in his head and biting his lip trying not to cry out.  He looks so sinful and beautiful it makes Tristan want to devour him. “I want to take my time, see all the different faces you make.”

 

“Tristan, fuck, please I want that!”  Galahad manages as he begins to thrust his hips and cock into Tristan’s hand, he will not last long, not after being deprived for so long.  “Please, oh, fuck, Tristan!”

 

Tristan can feel that Galahad is going to come and that he is not going to do so quietly so he silences him  by kissing him. They both moan into the kiss, it feels so good to finally have their lips pressed together, tongues scraping against tongues.  Galahad comes hard, his whole body is filled with relief at finally having Tristan’s hands and mouth on him.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one more chapter, will be posting this week. Your comments and kudos have been completely lovely and overwhelming! Thank you for your support xxx


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of this (with extra smut at the end for you!)
> 
>  
> 
> “Have you heard from Galahad?” Arthur asks and Isolde cannot help but smile as all her suspicions are confirmed.
> 
>  
> 
> “No.” She says which, again, is not a lie. She hasn’t heard from him. Not since she slipped him Tristan’s apartment key on Friday night and put him in an Uber heading over there, while she distracted Tristan with paperwork for her raise. All in all a successful evening.
> 
>  
> 
> “Well I think they might be ...together.” Arthur says. “Did you notice anything going on between them at the shoot?”
> 
>  
> 
> Did she notice the intense make out sessions when they thought no-one was looking? Let alone the less than subtle eye-fucking? Nope. “What do you mean?” She says innocently.
> 
>  
> 
> Arthur sighs “cut the crap Isolde. They are fucking aren’t they?”

Galahad arches his hips up needing touch. Tristan softly brushes his lips against softer than soft skin.  It feels like velvet, like the softest satin and it makes Tristan want to bite, suck and lick it to leave his mark.  The small whimpering moans Galahad makes with every soft swipe of Tristan’s tongue, every gasp and longing moan at the less than gentle bites make Tristan never want to hear another sound again in his life.  Tristan is making his way down Galahad’s chest as he writhes and twists in Tristan’s bed. Tristan is taking his time, he is being purposefully slow and it is driving Galahad mad with desire. 

 

Tristan is only wearing his leather trousers (shirt and shoes long since discarded).  He is painfully hard and his cock is bulging through the leather . Every time Galahad catches sight of it he moans with longing.  Galahad is wearing the short kilt he stole, with Tristan’s favourite black lace beneath it. He is also tied to the bed with two belts, one attached to each wrist.   He grips onto the leather of the belts for dear life as Tristan straddles him. Tristan sits up and picks his camera up bringing it to his eye. He snaps pictures of Galahad as he desperately tries to rut up against him.  

 

“Look at me Pup.”  Tristan says with a smile and a breathless laugh as Galahad finally manages to focus his eyes and look at Tristan above him.  “Beautiful.” Tristan says and takes a few more pictures of the trail of red marks he has left down Galahad’s chest. To him Galahad looks like a debauched angel.  Those temptingly sinful young looks make Tristan wants to do all sorts of things to him, things it will take at least the weekend to get through. “My Galahad the pure.” Tristan says in awe with a slight breathless laugh.  

 

“Please!”  Galahad softly whimpers and Tristan wants to keep him here forever.  

 

“Please what?”  Tristan asks as he puts the camera down.  Galahad just moans in response, so turned on he honestly is not sure what he wants anymore, he just needs Tristan.  He needs Tristan’s mouth, hands and the way his chest chair feels when it brushes up against Galahad’s skin. “Breathe Pup, I’ve got you.”  Tristan says and once again leans down, moving so he settles between Galahad’s legs. Galahad moans loudly as his kilt is lifted up and Tristan starts to kiss at the black lace and Galahad’s achingly hard cock.  There is a wet patch of precum already forming which Tristan gladly licks. Tristan’s hands gently scrape down Galahad’s thighs, nails digging in just so Galahad lifts his hips up again desperate for some kind of contact.  

 

Tristan then pulls the lace of the black shorts down over Galahad’s cock with his teeth.   Pressing Galahad’s hips down with his hands to keep him still. Then there are hot kisses and licks all around Galahad’s cock.  His balls are softly sucked into Tristan’s mouth and he almost comes but the grip on his thigh stops him. Pleasure mixing with pain.  Galahad can do nothing but shout out Tristan’s name in frustration. Pleased he is having this effect, Tristan continues his torture, licking and kissing all over Galahad’s crotch except where Galahad wants him to.  Eventually Tristan takes the base of Galahad’s cock into his hand and kisses the slit, licking the salt. Galahad moans with so much longing Tristan cannot help but pick up his camera with one hand and repeat the action so he can take a picture of the look on Galahad’s face.  

 

“Fuck, please, Tristan!”  Galahad squirms now he is so desperate for Tristan’s mouth around his dripping cock.  

 

Tristan takes pity on him and places the camera back down before swallowing Galahad as far as he can and sucking loudly.  “Yes! Oh God Tristan!” Galahad shouts and bucks up into Tristan’s mouth. They both know he is not going to last if Tristan keeps doing that wonderful thing he is doing with his tongue.  Tristan’s other hand is gripping Galahad’s thigh again and they both moan loudly as Galahad comes down Tristan’s throat. “Fuuccckk! Tristan! Ah!”

 

He keeps on sucking and bobbing his head until Galahad is completely spent.  Tristan eventually removes his mouth and kisses a slow trail back up Galahad’s chest and neck until he reaches lips.  The kiss is so languid and soft it makes Galahad whimper. They eventually part and Galahad “what about you? I want to see you.”  Galahad says his voice a desperate whisper.

 

Tristan laughs “you want my cock Pup?”

 

Galahad moans and nods “yes!”

 

Tristan smiles and reaches up to the belts that are restraining Galahad, he undoes them one by one.  The moment his hands are free Galahad runs them down Tristan’s chest feeling that soft hair beneath his fingers.  His hands then run lower and press against the bulge of Tristan’s leather trousers. “Mmm Pup” Tristan moans “so eager for me.”

 

Galahad reaches up with both his hands and runs them through Tristan’s hair bringing his head down so he can kiss him deeply.  Now that he is free Galahad runs his hands up and down Tristan’s warm back and wraps his legs around Tristan’s waist. They stay like this, lost in each other, until Galahad undoes Tristan’s fly and gasps.  “You don’t have any underwear on!” He says and moans as he can feel his cock really wanting to come back to life, but it is completely spent, so the result is a wonderfully painful flinch.

 

“Never do Pup.”  Tristan says as Galahad helps him shimmy out of his trousers and Galahad out of the kilt and lace, everything is thrown to the floor to join the rest of Tristan’s clothes.  Galahad can now see and feel Tristan in all his naked glory. Long legs, dark hair and a larger than average cock standing erect and dripping as it scrapes against Galahad’s thigh.  

 

“Fuck.”  Galahad moans as Tristan devours him in a kiss once more.  

 

Eventually Tristan reaches over to the bedside cabinet and opens the drawer where he keeps a bottle of lube.  As he does, Galahad takes the opportunity to run his hands down Tristan’s chest once more, which is fast becoming his favourite thing to do.  Tristan smiles as he opens the lube and covers his fingers with it, rubbing his hands together to warm the silky liquid. Galahad watches this with anticipation as he wriggles underneath Tristan, hands grasping at Tristan’s hips.  Tristan covers Galahad’s body with his own as Galahad raises his hips and ass up so Tristan can bring his hand down to find Galahad’s waiting hole.  

 

Tristan gradually pushes one finger inside as he kisses Galahad’s lips feeling Galahad’s fingers press into his hip.  Galahad breathes out slowly and Tristan wonders if this is really his first time. “Am I your first?” Tristan whispers in awe and he keeps his finger inside Galahad slightly curved upwards.

 

Galahad breathes a long slow sigh and opens his eyes to meet Tristan’s gaze.  He brings one of his hands from Tristan’s hips to his hair and pulls at the strands gently.  “Yes.” Galahad says and Tristan moans.  

 

“Are you sure about this?”  Tristan asks, “we can stop.”

 

Galahad smiles and sinks himself further onto Tristan’s finger in response “no, please keep going.  I want this.”

 

Tristan feels a little in awe that he is the first person to breach Galahad.  “We can stop or slow down anytime you want.”

 

Galahad smiles and strokes a hand down Tristan’s cheek “thank you.  I want you. I want all of you.”

 

Tristan moans and leans forward pressing a kiss to Galahad’s lips as he moves his finger in and out of Galahad.  He takes his time opening Galahad up, allowing him time to adjust to every new intrusion, he kisses Galahad’s neck and leaves a fresh trail of hickeys.  Once Galahad is open and writhing beneath him, his cock has even started to come back to life. Tristan then shimmies himself further down so he can reach Galahad’s hole with his lips.  He presses a chaste kiss against the slick hole pressing his tongue inside, Galahad bucks his hips up with a shout in surprise. “I promised you this Pup.” Tristan says before continuing push his tongue further, sucking slightly at the sensitive opening.  Galahad moans and his hands come to grab at Tristan’s hair pulling at the braids. Tristan adds a finger at the same time as his tongue, spreading the lube and spit around the opening muscles. Galahad is now writhing and moaning just as Tristan wants him.

 

Tristan stops presses a chaste kiss to Galahad’s thigh.  “Are you ready?”

 

Galahad nods  and whispers a breathless “yes!”  

 

Tristan sits up between Galahad’s legs. “Put your legs up and around my waist.”  Tristan says and Galahad does as he is told. Tristan then grasps onto Galahad’s hips to steady him before lining up his cock to Galahad’s waiting entrance.  “Tell me if I am going too fast.” Tristan says and Galahad nods. “Okay Pup, here we go.” Tristan presses just the tip of his cock inside Galahad and it feels almost impossibly tight for both of them.  They both moan and then Tristan presses further in, locking eyes with Galahad, he pauses for a moment before Galahad nods and encourages him to continue. Galahad’s hands are gripping onto Tristan’s hips, moving around to feel the curve of his ass.

 

Tristan is now fully seated inside Galahad who whimpers slightly at the intrusion but after a while he gets used to it.  “You can touch yourself.” Tristan says as he begins to move very slowly, rolling his hips.

 

“Fuck!”  Galahad moans and wraps one hand around his cock and begins to masturbate himself at the same pace Tristan fucks him.  It is slow at first, so tight it is verging on painful, but soon Galahad begins to relax in to the pleasure. Tristan moves faster hitting Galahad’s prostate and making him see stars for a moment.  Tristan is desperate to see his beautiful Pup come again so he can fuck him through an orgasm. It does not take long, as this is Galahad’s first time, and Tristan hits the prostate with ease each time he thrusts inside.  He watches as Galahad bites his lower lip, then screams out Tristan’s name and comes all over his own hand.

 

Tristan continues to fuck him as Galahad writhes and moans beneath him, now so overstimulated his looks like he might pass out.   The sight of Galahad so beautiful beneath him makes Tristan lose it for a moment. He picks up the pace, fucking his Pup harder and faster, until he comes loudly screaming “Fuck!! Pup!!” Tristan collapses on top of Galahad and kisses that wonderful neck again.

  
  


***

 

Galahad wakes to the sound of a camera and he groans.  “Tristan!” He manages not wanting to open his eyes yet.  “Are you taking pictures of me?!” Galahad can hear a few more clicks and then he can feel the mattress dip.   Then he feels the weight of Tristan’s body as he starts to kiss up Galahad’s chest until he gets to his neck and whispers “yes”.  Galahad laughs and opens his eyes, hands going to Tristan’s hair stroking the braids.

 

“You are my muse.”  Tristan says and he looks at Galahad’s sleepy face with a smile.  “I never want to take another picture if it doesn’t have you in it.”  Tristan kisses him then soft and slow. “You have ruined me Pup.”

 

Galahad laughs and kisses Tristan deeply “you have ruined me.  I am no longer your ‘Galahad the pure’.”

 

Tristan frowns at that “do you regret it?”  Hope and fear hangs from the question and it makes Galahad smile because he has never regretted anything less in his life.  

 

“No.”  He says and kisses Tristan.  “Do you?”

 

Tristan shakes his head, hair touching his face, braids swinging “never.”

 

“Good.”  Galahad says and they get lost in a kiss for a while until both of them can hear Tristan’s phone persistantly ringing.

 

“Fuck!”  Tristan says “I thought I turned it off.”  He says and rolls off Galahad to grab the ringing phone on the side, he sees it is Arthur and frowns.  “Fuck!”

 

Galahad laughs and moves onto his side so he can kiss Tristan’s shoulder “answer it.”  He says.

 

Tristan pauses for a moment as he really does not want to but he also knows Arthur will not give up until he does.  “Fine.” He says and presses the accept button. “What the fuck Arthur?”

 

“That is no way to answer the phone Tristan.”  Arthur says. Galahad smiles and reaches over to where Tristan left his camera. He takes a few shots of Tristan’s bare back. 

 

“What do you want?”  Tristan says and he moves to lie on his back holding the phone up to his ear.  Galahad straddles him and takes another picture of Tristan.

 

“No need to be rude.” Arthur says a little annoyed.  Tristan sticks his tongue out at Galahad who laughs, places the camera down before covering  Tristan’s body with his own and kissing a trail down his chest. 

 

“I’m not being rude Arthur. I’m just busy.” Tristan manages just before  Galahad finds a nipple and sucks at it making Tristan gasp loudly. 

 

 “Are you okay?”  Arthur asks.

 

Tristan bites his hand to stifle a moan.   “Yeah, I’m fine Arthur. What is it?” Tristan manages as Galahad rests his chin on Tristan’s chest and looks up at him with a smile before continuing his journey down Tristan’s chest.  Tristan can do nothing but close his eyes and bite his hand as Galahad makes his way lower and lower.  

 

“Alright, I was just wondering if you realised you had authorised a raise for Isolde?”  Arthur was fairly sure that Tristan had no idea he even had that power.  

 

“A raise?”  Tristan says as Galahad swirls his tongue around Tristan’s hip bone causing him to raise it up and moan slightly.  

 

“Yes for Isolde.”  Arthur says fairly sure Tristan is not listening to him.  “She works hard and she deserves it but I wasn’t sure if you even knew you could do that.”

 

“If she deserves it”  Tristan says his voice breathless now as Galahad’s mouth is getting even lower.  “Then what is the problem?”

 

Arthur sighs “I guess nothing.  I also wanted to ask if you had a chance to edit some of the shoot.  Bors is quite keen to have a look.” Arthur says as Galahad finds Tristan’s now very interested cock and wraps his hand around the base before swallowing the rest of it.  Tristan almost looses it completely and mutters ‘fuck’ under his breath. “Tristan? Are you listening to me?” Arthur says again.

 

“Yeah, fuck, yeah I will send some over in a bit.”  Tristan says as Galahad starts to bob his head up and down, soft lips sliding over the sensitive shaft. 

 

“How long will that be?”  Arthur says. “Do you need me to send Isolde over?”

 

“Fuck!”  Tristan says as Galahad starts to increase his rhythm “no!  Fuck, I will send some over in a bit!”

 

“Are you alright Tristan?”  Arthur says. “You sound distracted.”

 

“That’s because I am.  I will call you later okay?”  Tristan says.

 

“Okay.  call me later.”  Arthur says and Tristan throws the phone to the floor.  

 

“Fuck Pup,”  Tristan shouts as he grabs Galahad’s hair and pulls at the strands “fuck yes!  Oh Pup!” It only takes a few more bobs of his head and some loud obscene sucking noises for Tristan to come loudly down Galahad’s throat.  

 

It is only when Tristan turns his head he sees that his phone has landed face up on the carpet and the line is still open.  “Fuck.”  

 

***

 

Arthur should have hung up.   He was going to, but the noise he heard made him think Tristan was in pain.  Then he heard something else. He definitely heard Tristan say “Pup”. Who on earth could Tristan be calling ‘Pup’?  Maybe he heard wrong. There was definitely someone there, but Arthur doesn’t really want to think about what Tristan might be doing and with who.   Not after that one time he walked in on Tristan. He shudders at the memory of seeing far more of his friend’s naked body and sex life than he ever wanted.  He really doesn’t like to think about it.

 

He looks at his phone again and sees he has some more missed calls and messages from Bors.  Sighing he wonders if Tristan has uploaded the pictures yet. They all go to the cloud when he uploads them from his camera.  Arthur usually waits until Tristan has narrowed them all down. He will give Tristan a few hours to finish whatever, and whoever he is doing,  then he can always have a quick look at the cloud, find some obviously good ones to send to Bors. Tristan will forgive him.  

 

***

 

Tristan is attempting to edit the photos from the shoot.   He uploaded everything to his computer and is trying to start the process of narrowing them down.   Galahad stole Tristan’s camera when he was done uploading. He is now led on the sofa looking through the pictures Tristan took last night and this morning on his camera.  They are really quite obscene and Galahad cannot help but laugh. “These are pornographic Tristan!” He exclaims and laughs again, but Galahad actually thinks he looks quite good in them, Tristan is very talented after all.

 

“You are the one who broke into my apartment and greeted me in bed wearing nothing but a scrap of over priced fabric and some lace.”  Tristan smiles, he was very pleased to have found such a sight waiting for him when he got home.

 

“I did not break in.”  Galahad says with a smile, “I had a key.”

 

“Yeah remind me to fire Isolde.”  Tristan laughs, cheeky so and so , he thinks, giving herself a raise and Galahad the key to his apartment, actually, he smiles, he should really send her flowers.  

 

“You never would!”  Galahad says and continues to look through the pictures.  There really are a lot of them. He is surprised Tristan had that much time to take them.  

 

“Of course not.”  Tristan says and looks over at Galahad who is just wearing one of Tristan’s grey shirts and nothing else.  His bare legs as tempting as ever. Tristan sighs, defeated, he gets up and walks over to the couch lying down on top of Galahad.  Laughing, Galahad manages to angle the camera so he can take a picture of Tristan who is shirtless just in his faded joggers, which should not look as good as they do.  

 

“Hey.”  Tristan says gently taking the camera from Galahad, snapping a picture of him before placing it on the coffee table.  He takes both of Galahad’s wrists in his hand and gently restrains them above his head. “I am the photographer.” Tristan says and kisses him.

 

They break apart and Galahad smiles and wriggles his hips beneath Tristan.  “I think I heard your phone.”  

 

“It is probably Arthur.”  Tristan says and starts to kiss Galahad’s neck still keeping his wrists in place.  “I think he heard us before.”

 

“Fuck! Really?”  Galahad says sounding concerned.

 

Tristan releases his wrists and kisses him “don’t worry Pup, I will quit before anything happens to you.”

 

“You can’t!”  Galahad says.

 

“For you Pup, I will do anything.”  Tristan says and shh’s Galahad before getting back to kissing every one of those marks he made earlier.

 

***

Isolde has had three messages from Arthur now and Tristan is still not answering his phone.  She eventually realises she needs to call Arthur back at least. She really does not want to go to Tristan’s as she is pretty sure Galahad is there and she is now fairly sure Arthur knows.  She takes a deep breath and calls Arthur.

 

“Isolde!”  Arthur booms. “Why have you not answered your phone?!”

 

She pinches her nose and sighs “sorry I have been busy, is everything okay?”

 

“Do you know where Tristan is?”  Arthur says and she can hear what could be irritation in his voice.  She is very glad she decided to work from home this weekend rather than go in the office.  

 

“At home I assume.”  She says, which is true, as far as she knows, he is.

 

“Have you heard from Galahad?”  Arthur asks and Isolde cannot help but smile as all her suspicions are confirmed.

 

“No.”  She says which, again, is not a lie.   She hasn’t heard from him. Not since she slipped him Tristan’s apartment key on Friday night and put him in an Uber heading over there, while she distracted Tristan with paperwork for her raise.  All in all a successful evening.

 

“Well I think they might be ...together.”  Arthur says. “Did you notice anything going on between them at the shoot?”

 

Did she notice the intense make out sessions when they thought no-one was looking?  Let alone the less than subtle eye-fucking? Nope. “What do you mean?” She says innocently.

 

Arthur sighs “cut the crap Isolde.  They are fucking aren’t they?”

 

Isolde smiles and thinks ‘I hope so’  but she says “I have no idea Arthur, Tristan does not let me know about his private life.”

 

“So if I went over there right now Galahad would not be there?”  Arthur asks.

 

“I have no idea.”  She says in her most innocent voice.  “Do you want me to call him?”

 

Arthur sighs “no, no, it’s fine.  I am sure it’s nothing. It can wait until Monday.”  

 

Eventually Tristan manages to get some more work done while Galahad sleeps.  Even then Tristan sneaks a few photos of him. He really does feel there is no point in taking pictures of anyone or anything else at this point.  Checking his phone he sees he has missed calls from Arthur and Isolde. He looks at the time it’s ten o’clock on Monday morning he should just go in with what he has.  He saves the folder of pictures he has chosen so far, leaves a note for his sleeping beauty and orders an Uber.

 

Once at the office it is not long until he intercepted by Isolde, who he swears has a tracking device on him.  “Tristan.” She whispers loudly and grabs his arm pulling him into her office. “Where have you been? Actually I know where you have been.”  She says with a wink. “Seriously you should answer your phone.”

 

“Isolde.”  He says and she realises he isn’t wearing sunglasses and actually appears sober.  She is not sure she has ever seen him so relaxed either. “I am here now what’s the problem. I have the photos.”  He says and brandishes the memory stick. Isolde then realises that Tristan might not know about the cloud.  

 

“You know it saves on the cloud?”  She says and he looks confused. “When you plug your camera into the laptop it automatically loads them all onto the company cloud.”  She says and he still does not seem to be getting it. “All of them. Every picture you have taken.” She says and grabs his arms and shakes him a little.  “Arthur has access to the cloud.”

 

“Wait.”  Tristan says as a horrible realisation begins to dawn on him. “Fuck.”  A dim memory of Arthur saying something about this starts to form in the back of his mind.

 

Arthur appears at Isolde’s door at that precise moment looking none too pleased.  “I will leave you to it.” Isolde says and leaves really hoping Arthur is not going to fire him, or for that matter, her.

 

“Isolde just told me about the cloud.”  Tristan says turning to look at his friend who he can see has a folder in his hand.  “I didn’t realise.”

 

Arthur rolls his eyes as he has explained to Tristan about the cloud a million times, but he is always too drunk or hungover or just plain bored to listen.  Stood here in front of him now Arthur realises that Tristan is none of those things. He actually looks relaxed, despite the panic on his face as he has just realised that a hundred or so explicit photos of his new lover, the model who Arthur expressly told him not to sleep with, have been uploaded onto the cloud.  

 

“Tristan sit down.”  Arthur says and Tristan makes his way to the couch.  “I was angry at first.” Arthur says and Tristan dearly hopes the next words out of his mouth are not ‘but now I am just disappointed’ because honestly, he is not sure he could take it.  “It was when I saw these that I understood.” Arthur hands Tristan the folder he is holding and then makes his way to Isolde’s window, “look at them.” He says and realises that Isolde’s office may be smaller than his but the view is better.  

 

Tristan opens the folder and sees three printed photos of Galahad sleeping.  They are beautiful. Galahad’s hair is a mess, curls everywhere, his skin a little flushed, and you can see some of the bruising from the hickeys on his neck.  The light as it comes across his face is so soft he looks like a renaissance painting. It is probably one of the most beautiful photographs Tristan has ever taken.  Galahad, he thinks, is truly his muse. “I know I am fired.” Tristan says. “But please don’t fire Galahad.”  

 

Arthur turns from the window and looks at Tristan, who thinks Arthur has a strange look on his face, he laughs and walks over to Tristan sitting next to him on the couch.  “You don’t get it, do you?” Arthur says.

 

Tristan looks up at Arthur and sighs “I know I betrayed your trust, I did the one thing you told me not to do.  I took advantage, although, trust me in some ways it was the other way round. But I get it, I really do, I understand why you have to let me go.  I just hope we can still be friends.”

 

Arthur smiles and claps Tristan hard on the back.  “Oh Tristan!” He says and starts laughing. “Yes at first I was angry.   I thought you had just seduced a model and opened us up to all sorts of lawsuits and potentially cost us our reputation.”  Tristan goes to speak but Arthur holds up a hand to silence him. “Then I saw these. I also saw a lot more than I wanted, and I will teach you how to delete from the cloud, and how to not upload things to it but that is not the point.”

 

Tristan is confused now and his back hurts from where Arthur slapped him.  “I don’t understand, you are not angry?”

 

“Oh I am.”  He says and laughs again.  “But you, Tristan, you are in love and that, my friend, is way worse than any punishment I could give you.”

 

Tristan laughs “I have only known him a few weeks!”  Even as he says the words he knows it is pointless, he knows that Arthur is right.

 

Arthur smiles “well you will have to tell him.”

 

“That I am in love with him?!”  Tristan says a little panicked.

 

“No,”  Arthur says and puts his hand on Tristan’s shoulder “well, yes, you should probably let him know that, but I mean that his photos have been uploaded onto the cloud.”

 

Tristan groans and puts his hand over his face leaning forward, he groans “fuck.”

 

Arthur still has his hand on Tristan’s shoulder and he gently squeezes.  “They have been deleted, I made sure with the IT guy. It is a secure server they will go nowhere else and it was only me that saw them.”  Arthur reassures Tristan who turns his head and grimaces. “Just be aware when you upload things. Get Isolde to give you an IT lesson!” Arthur laughs hard then and Tristan covers his face in his hands once more.

 

***

 

Tristan makes his way home hoping that Galahad will understand.  He tries to push the thoughts of what Arthur said away, he cannot think about being in love right now.  He cannot think about it, not if Galahad reacts badly and leaves, he really cannot think about that happening.  Taking a deep breath he opens his front door and he can smell coffee. He goes inside, closing the door behind him, he removes his shoes and makes his way into the kitchen where he finds Galahad still dressed in just Tristan’s shirt.  Galahad turns and smiles “you are back.”  

 

Seeing that smile makes Tristan feel even worse as he walks up to Galahad takes his face in his hands and kisses his lips before parting “there is something I need to tell you.”

 

Galahad instantly looks worried “what happened?  Is Arthur mad?” Galahad says his voice loaded with concern, worried that his actions have gotten Tristan fired.   “Did you explain that I wanted this? I can talk to him.”

 

Tristan gently shh’s him and places a chaste kiss on Galahad’s lips before removing his hands from Galahad’s face.   He takes one of Galahad’s hands in his and leads him to the couch and they both sit. “He is not mad.” Tristan begins, “he was but he isn’t now.  It’s about you.” Galahad stays still as Tristan squeezes Galahad’s hand, worry etched all over his face now, “the pictures we took together. I did not realise but when I uploaded the photos from my camera they all went to the cloud.”  Tristan pauses as he watches understanding creep over Galahad’s face, he squeezes his hand a little tighter. “It’s okay they have all been deleted now, only Arthur saw them, no one else and he can be trusted.”

 

“So the photos you took of me?  The ones in bed?” Galahad says his voice a flat monotone that Tristan cannot read.  “They were uploaded by you to the company cloud?”

 

“Yes.”  Tristan says. “By accident.  Arthur assured me it is a secure cloud and he has gotten rid of all of them.  He made sure with the IT guy.”

 

“So the IT guy also got an eye full?”  Galahad says in that strange monotone voice again which is making Tristan nervous.

 

“I am not sure.  I think Arthur deleted them and then got the IT guy to make sure they were definitely gone.  I am not sure, I am not good with computers.”

 

“Clearly.”  Galahad says and Tristan winces.

 

“I am so sorry!   It was an accident and this does not reflect on you at all.  It was all my fault and Arthur knows that.” Tristan says, he is looking at Galahad trying to gauge his reaction but his face is unreadable and its making Tristan panic.  “Please Pup, you have to believe me, I never meant for that to happen. I am an idiot.”

Galahad slowly starts to smile and then starts, to Tristan’s utter relief and shock, laughing.   He throws his head back and laughs so hard he can hardly catch his breath. “Are you okay?” Tristan asks worried this is hysteria.  

 

Eventually Galahad manages to calm his breathing and look at Tristan who is still looking stricken, he leans forward and kisses him chastely before laughing again.  “Oh my god that is hilarious!”

 

“You aren’t mad?”  Tristan says in shock.

 

Galahad smiles so widely Tristan cannot help but mirror it.  “No, I know you didn’t mean to! I can tell by your face!”  

 

“I really didn’t!”  Tristan says now flooded with relief.  

 

“I am kinda embarrassed”  Galahad says as he does feel like he might not be able to look Arthur in the eye ever again,  “but fuck it I looked good in those photos!” Galahad says laughing again.

 

“You really did!”  Tristan agrees.

 

“Oh my god! I cannot believe it.”  Galahad says smiling, imagining Arthur’s face.  “What did Arthur say?” Galahad asks, he looks flushed from laughing so hard and Tristan thinks once again he is one of the most beautiful people he has ever seen.  

 

“Well he was mad at first that I had slept you.”  Tristan says which is true. He is not sure how he is going to explain the turnaround though, that Arthur only forgave him because he is convinced that Tristan is in love with Galahad.  Which he is.

 

“I can imagine!”  Galahad says, “you told him it was just as much me though right?”

 

Tristan smiles “something like that.”

 

Galahad looks at Tristan then and realises he is hiding something.  “What happened? Did you lose your job?” He says suddenly serious.

 

Tristan shakes his head “no,” he reaches up and cups the side of Galahad’s face gently reassuring him,  “at least I don’t think I did.”

 

Galahad smiles “then what did he say?”

 

Tristan looks at Galahad sat next to him, bare legs pale and beautiful, wearing his favourite shirt that Tristan never wants back, he only wants Galahad to wear it now.  He just wants Galahad like this, with him forever. Tristan gently encourages Galahad to straddle him and sit on his lap while he leans back on the couch allowing Galahad room.  He reaches up a hand and strokes Galahad’s hair while keeping one hand on his thigh. “He said that I was in love you.”

 

Galahad smiles and laughs throwing his head back so Tristan can see that wonderful swan like neck, dark bruises still there from earlier.  “You hadn’t realised?” Galahad says as he brings his head forward and looks at Tristan, curls falling around his eyes. “I am pretty sure we were in love from the moment I stopped you from dropping your coffee and you ignored me.”

 

Tristan laughs “I am sorry about how I was that day.”

 

“You are lucky that moody and brooding are my type.”  Galahad says and leans down placing kisses along Tristan’s neck, licking and biting so he can have matching marks.  “In case you missed it Tristan,” Galahad whispers into Tristan’s neck. “I love you too.”

 

Tristan laughs and slips one of his hands underneath the shirt Galahad is wearing stroking up his back.  Galahad moans and immediately encourages the touch as he continues his exploration of Tristan’s neck, moving his shirt aside.  He is wearing a different shirt, as Galahad is wearing Tristan’s usual favourite. It is black and a little smaller than usual and Galahad likes it, but he likes Tristan’s chest hair more.  He unbuttons all of the buttons to find chest hair, his hands pushing the fabric aside and running through the hair as he grinds his hips against Tristan.  

 

Both of their hands are starting to wonder everywhere and Tristan cannot stand it a moment longer, he brings one hand up to Galahad’s hair and moves him so he can kiss him deeply.  Galahad opens his mouth eagerly to the kiss, as Tristan’s other hand scrapes at his back. One of Galahad’s hands makes its way down to the ever increasing bulge in Tristan’s leather trousers, pressing down slightly, making Tristan moan into Galahad’s mouth.  

 

“Mmmm Pup.”  Tristan whimpers as they manage to part.  Galahad smiles at being called being ‘Pup’ as he starts to undo the the fly of Tristan’s trousers.  Tristan, of course, is not wearing any underwear and Galahad finds his cock easily, grasping it in his hand as Tristan helps by pushing his trousers down under his ass.  Galahad gasps as Tristan’s hand makes its way to his ass and gently squeezes the flesh. “I’d fuck you Pup but we don’t have lube.” Tristan says. “I don’t want to leave this couch.” Tristan gently rubs his finger around Galahad’s hole and is pleasantly surprised to find it wet and open.  “Pup!”

 

Galahad smiles and moves so he can take the tip of Tristan’s finger inside.   He grasps Tristan’s hair with one hand and with the other he steadies himself on the back of the couch.  “I got bored without you here,” he says, “I wanted to be ready for you.” Galahad is so open Tristan can already slip two fingers inside.

 

“Pup, you will be the death of me.”  Tristan says as he slips a third finger inside and Galahad moans.  “If I could keep you here with me forever I would.” Tristan whimpers as he feels the tight warmth of Galahad on his fingers.

 

“Fuck, yes!”  Galahad moans and then lifts himself up and down, fucking himself on Tristan’s fingers.  Tristan watches in awe, his other hand in Galahad’s hair pulling at the curls. “Mmm Tristan please!  I need your cock now!”

 

Tristan moans loudly and removes his fingers.   With both hands he manhandles Galahad so he can sink down and take Tristan’s cock inside with ease.  They both moan at the tightness and warmth. Tristan’s fingers hold on tightly to Galahad’s hips as Galahad steadies himself with both hands on the back of the couch, he then starts to fuck himself on Tristan’s cock.  Tristan can only watch in awe as Galahad moves up and down landing hard each time as he throws his head back with abandon.  

 

Galahad stops for a moment and moves his hands from the back of the couch and runs them down Tristan’s chest, settling on his hips.  Tristan gasps as Galahad manages to lean back, Tristan remembers all those flexible yoga poses and realises he has only just touched the cusp of the iceberg of what Galahad is capable of.    Tristan keeps his hands firmly on Galahad’s hips to help guide him, not that he needs much his core muscles doing all the work, as he elegantly manages to fuck himself on Tristan’s cock. At this angle Galahad looks amazing.  Tristan can see Galahad’s stomach muscles working, his cock erect, leaking, untouched and tempting, bobbing in front of him.  

 

Tristan can do nothing but sit back and witness Galahad fucking himself with abandon, head thrown back and curls bouncing wildly.  “Fuck Pup! Yes!” He knows he is not going to last for much longer he can feel his orgasm building and building. “Fuck I am going to come Pup!”  Tristan shouts and Galahad responds by fucking himself even harder and faster. It does not take that much longer until Tristan comes loudly and Galahad feels it inside him, hot and wet, and he moans loudly.  “Come up here Pup,” Tristan says and guides Galahad back up so he can sit in Tristan’s lap. Tristan puts his hand around Galahad’s now dripping cock, he runs his thumb over the slit and Galahad moans. Moving his hand up and down he masturbates Galahad until he comes loud and hard over Tristan’s hand.

 

They kiss and touch each other for a little longer before they part, resting their foreheads against each other.  “Fuck Pup you are amazing.” Tristan says breathless.  

 

Galahad laughs and kisses Tristan unable to find words just yet.   Before Galahad knows what is happening Tristan has placed his hands under Galahad’s ass and is standing up holding him as Galahad wraps his legs around Tristan’s waist.  “Let’s get cleaned up Pup.” He says and carries Galahad towards the bathroom, shuffling slightly with his trousers still just under his ass. Galahad laughs and wraps his arms around Tristan’s neck as he is carried with ease across the apartment.

 

They strip the rest of their clothes and get in the shower, hot water soothing as they wash each other with long careful touches.  Tristan manages to make Galahad come once more with a gentle but persistent finger pressing inside, finding the prostate with ease.   Galahad is starting to realise that Tristan likes him over stimulated and exhausted with pleasure, and he is not complaining. Especially as Tristan carries him easily to the bed and they both lie down, still wet but not caring, from the shower.  Galahad rests his head on the curve of Tristan’s shoulder, his hand placed on Tristan’s stomach.

 

They doze together for a while as Tristan runs his hand up and down Galahad’s back.  “Tristan?” Galahad softly says. Tristan responds with a murmur. “Do you have a non digital camera?  You know a film one?”  

 

Tristan smiles “yes.”

 

“You know how to develop them?”  Galahad asks, “you have a dark room somewhere or you could use your bathroom you have no windows in there.”

 

Tristan smiles and kisses the top of Galahad’s head, damp hair smelling like Tristan’s shampoo.  “Yes. I have used the bathroom before.” He says.

 

Galahad noticed the plastic trays, bottles of chemicals and washing line with pegs in one of the cupboards in the bathroom and thought as much.  “So next time” Galahad says “you take pictures of me, use that camera.”

 

Tristan laughs and nods “you have my word Pup, no one will ever see you in the throes of pleasure except me, ever again.”

 

“Promise?”  Galahad says looking up at Tristan.

 

“Promise,” Tristan says, “you are mine Pup and no one else’s.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for staying with me! This was meant to be a one shot and just sprawled into 4 chapters. I love these two much hopefully I will come back to them.  
> Thank you for all your lovely and amazing comments and kudos. They mean the world to me xxx

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [TIMESTAMP for Leg Legs Legs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19926586) by [purplesocrates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesocrates/pseuds/purplesocrates)




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